PlatKat.com: August 2005

Wednesday, August 31, 2005

Double-Who?

While I was walking to the gym this morning, I saw a mid-sized SUV pull into the parking lot with a "W" sticker on it. The owner was a woman who looked to be in her mid-30s.

I approached her and said, "Excuse me, you have 'W' sticker on your car," in the same tone you would inform someone that his or her shoes were untied.

She looked up at me, eyes growing cold and hollow. Two giant horns sprouted from her head as she grew fangs and claws that were sharper than razors. She yelled, "FUCK YOU!" and lunged toward me at full speed.

I picked up a sledgehammer, jumped onto the hood of her car, and started whaling on the windshield. "See what happens, lady? You see what happens when you let a stranger fuck you and millions of American citizens in the ass?"

Then I went inside and ran a few miles, and that was pretty much my morning.

There may be safety in numbers in Texas, but you can't get away with this kind of shit in California.

posted by platkat @ 5:43 PM 6 million people love The Kat

Tuesday, August 30, 2005

Follow Me to the Fun! Wait, No, I'll Follow You.

When I was about 16 or so, my friend Andrea and I used to cruise around in her white 1980 Crown Victoria (lovingly referred to as the SS Pimp Daddy for its yacht-like size). Most of the time, we didn't have anywhere important to be, so we'd follow people for no reason. We didn't really have a profile by which we chose people to vigorously pursue; we'd usually just pick a car and go for it. We'd follow our target down boulevards, through fast food drive-thrus, around neighborhoods...

People really freak out when they're being followed.

One time, we followed some guy, probably about our age. It was nighttime. When he realized he was being followed, he tried to lose us by ducking into dark neighborhoods, turning on his left blinker and then turning right, taking sharp corners and accelerating, etc. This went on for a few hours. The guy started driving really fast and chain smoking. He finally pulled up to his house in a neighboring suburb and ran inside like we were Satan with a gun. I didn't know the guy, but that preppy fucker probably deserved it.

Another time, we followed some guy that looked like some other guy we knew, and had the same car. It was nighttime again. The guy was onto us, so he slowed down and changed lanes a few times, figuring we were just assholes that wanted to pass him. (I guess he didn't know that our breed of "asshole" existed yet.) After about an hour of tailing him down Ogden Avenue, he stopped in a parking lot, obviously scared and confused (unlike the prepster who was probably expecting revenge for one of his lame pranks). Turns out it wasn't the guy we knew, or even a guy like the guy we knew, but a dad with a kid in a car seat who was also wondering what the hell was going on. We saw this as we creepily drove past the car, only to see him calming down the child. We felt kinda bad, involving kids in our moronic psychological bender, but most dads don't have a mohawk pulled into a ponytail and drive around in a wood-paneled station wagon, ya know?

I've never had anyone follow me for no reason, but I don't think I'd freak out like these people did. Especially if they'd been following me for a long time and I didn't recognize them. What are they going to do? Try to mug me? After giving me ample time to realize they're following me and take down their license plate number? Yeah, I wouldn't do anything. I might get out and say "hi."

But what if that's what they want and they take out a gun and blow my head off?!?!

I guess I'd be dead then, huh.

posted by platkat @ 6:18 PM 1 million people love The Kat

Monday, August 29, 2005

My Website Is a Dirty Slut

I logged on today to find out that my slutty, irresponsible website had contracted a virus. Nice going! See what happens when you hang out in the same place as porn sites and mpegs of tapdancing, polio-stricken transvestites? Sleep in a whore house long enough and you're gonna get fucked, my primary authoritative female figure from childhood always used to say...

It's all better now and safe for viewing, but man that was close! Thank Gaia for Valtrex, or you wouldn't even be able to read this.

posted by platkat @ 12:03 PM 7 million people love The Kat

Thursday, August 25, 2005

I live by the river and die by the river.

There is no van involved.

posted by platkat @ 10:30 PM 3 million people love The Kat

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

On Trains

So I ended up going to the Ben Lee/Ben Folds/Rufus Wainwright show in San Francisco, as mentioned in my music blog. I'm writing about it here because the concert was somewhat dull and I missed Ben Lee!! He was the only one of the three that I was interested in seeing, and I didn't even catch a glimpse of his act.

Why? Because I'm an idiot.

I decided to take the Caltrain because the show was at 7:30 and traffic into San Francisco dies down sometime after the vampires and werewolves come out to feast. Unfortunately, my watch was slow and I arrived at the train station just as the train did. For a split second, I considered just getting on, but it would be really embarrassing to get chewed out on a train full of people for not having a ticket.

I saw people unloading bikes and other junk off the train and figured I had time. I ran to the machine, quickly bought my ticket, and turned around just in time to see the train pull away. I actually ran alongside it for a couple of minutes, which is what makes this ordeal truly idiotic.

I even threw my arms up in the air and yelled, "Wait!" like they do in the movies, as if that would actually stop the train. I know at some point I dissed those stupid movie scenes where one of the main characters is in a desperate hurry and just misses the train/bus/plane. I mocked the idea that someone would try yelling, "Wait!" to a large, moving train and think that in doing so, the conductor would stop a train full of people just so he could get on.

Transportation Commissioner: "Bob, your train is running over 30 minutes behind schedule. What's going on?"

Conductor: "Well, this one guy said, 'Wait,' so I had to wait. Don't you see how that trumps any and all other logical courses of action?"

So, it turns out that this useless last-ditch attempt to get on a train really is an involuntary human reaction to just missing it. And like in the movies, the train usually doesn't stop. When an individual feels, the community (or as they call it at NI, commununity) reels.

It would have been really cool if it was the 40s and I could just run alongside the moving train while a couple of strong-armed dudes with goofy mustaches pull me onto it. It would have been even cooler if the Caltrain was like the commuter trains in Chicago where you can just buy your dang ticket on the train!

I ended up waiting an hour for the next train, but not before trying and failing to catch another one at the other Mountain View stop.

I made it to the 4th and King stop where Tamara (bless her soul) was waiting for me. We saw the second half of Ben Folds' show. Some chick tried to rush the stage while Ben was playing the piano and a security guard yanked her off before she even knew what was happening. I don't know what she was planning to do if she made it to the piano, but I'm thinking it's better that she didn't. Rufus was flaming gay and consequently, quite conversational. The show was kinda boring except for the parts where his sister sang with him, which I thought sounded nice.

Then I wolfed down a reuben at Mel's Diner and, having missed enough trains for one day, took a cab to the 12:01 to San Jose. Missing that train meant hanging out in SF for another 5 hours so I made sure I got there with time to spare. Good thing I did because I got the wrong day-pass ticket and had to go back into the station and buy an add-on.

As an aside, while I was waiting for the doors to the platform to open, some guy asked me, "Is this the train to San Jose?" As it was the only train leaving the station for the rest of the night, I bluntly replied, "I hope so" and went back to instant messaging on my Sidekick. One of his buddies immediately said, "Man, you got zinged!"

So that was a pickup line. I saw that the guy was in a small group of young men and I found it highly unlikely that they'd be standing in a train station at midnight, all three of them unsure which train was theirs.

Flash back to my wait for the next train to SF. Some guy asked me when the next train was, even though I was sitting next to a giant sign containing the schedule. I passed it off thinking he may just not know how to read a train schedule. I don't think it's hard, but after watching my ex struggle with the posted bus schedule when we went to Portland, I keep my expectations for the knowledge of the common man very low.

When another commuter train passed without stopping, the guy asked, "That's not our train is it?" I said, "I think it would have stopped if it were."

Since when do the intricacies of the public transportation system constitute as pickup lines? Even if I were a "responsive" target and actually wanted to be picked up by Mr. Illiterate or Boy Wigger, where is the conversation supposed to go from there?

The last conversation I had about trains that lasted longer than "Has it come yet?" was with my cousin. He was 3 and PBS's Shining Time Station had hit its ratings peak.

Gentlemen, it's time to think outside the station.

posted by platkat @ 12:42 PM 4 million people love The Kat

Monday, August 22, 2005

If I Were 9 Again

I could go home and watch this:

"Duck Tales" was one of the best cartoons ever. Even though Uncle Scrooge was the stingiest duck in Duckburg, he still loved his nephews and took them on his adventures. If Scrooge was my uncle, I'd be like, "Hey, let's see what's burnin' at the Temple of Doom! And then let's look for those Nazis who want to raid the Lost Ark!" Cause if we did that, I'm pretty sure I'd run into Indiana Jones. And then I could make it look like an accident and say, "Oh! I didn't know you'd be here. So what's up?" I mean, I could have just gone to Boston and taken one of his classes, but I ain't like those flighty hoes. Besides, I'd probably run into "good" Will and he'd ask me if I liked apples and I'd be like, "Shut up and mop the floor you loser!" And then he'd grow wings and fly up to heaven and Alanis Morrisette would be like "I'm God" and I'd be like "No you're not. You're a has-been marginally talented singer who got her start on 'Star Search.'" Then Ed McMahon would come in panicking and crying, "One of our talents cancelled at the last minute! We need a replacement!" And I'd go, "Hey! I'm 9 years old and wearing an American flag t-shirt. I can sing 'The Star-Spangled Banner.'" After belting out my own powerful version of the song, the judges would give me 5 stars and I'd beat the hell out of everyone, but only because my opponent was Roseanne Barr-Arnold-Whatever-Useless-Moron-She's-With-Now and she damn near killed everyone else with her grackle throat spackle. But at least she got revenge on her jerk husband that cheated on her with that rich romance novelist. Everyone knows she's a witch. And when I was 9, I burned witches... when I wasn't watching "Duck Tales."

posted by platkat @ 3:00 PM 8 million people love The Kat

Saturday, August 20, 2005

Score!

I found a Fantastic Four mechanical pencil on the ground while I was walking home today. Since Fantastic Four is a relatively new movie, that means there's a ton of lead in this sucker and it's gonna last me a good, long time. I think I'm having the Best Week Ever.

posted by platkat @ 8:52 PM 3 million people love The Kat

Friday, August 19, 2005

I Scream, You Scream, Ice Cream WITHDRAWAL!

Hello, viewers. My name is Kat Taylor, and I'm here today to talk about a very important issue that affects millions of people across the US: ice cream addiction. If you've never had ice cream, you may think this problem doesn't affect you. However, according to heavily researched statistics that I'm about to make up, if you're not an ice cream addict, there's a 1-in-3 chance that someone very close to you is. And 9 times out of 10, they are keeping it a secret and need your help.

I've been off the pint for almost a week now, and believe me, it hasn't been easy. It was easier to quit smoking than to go through the rigorous process of fighting ice cream addiction. I just hope I can use my experiences to teach others not to give into the temptation of the spoon and lead a healthy, ice cream-free life.

I started using ice cream when I was a kid. I was mostly a social user then. I'd get it at bithday parties and on holidays. Sometimes I'd go out and have it with my friends. One time I even scored some at a church picnic!

"Hey, I can stop whenever I want," I told everyone. I had even convinced myself that I was eating copious amounts of ice cream "just for fun" and I wasn't "seriously addicted."

"I'm having a party," I'd tell the cashier as he scanned my cartful of pints of Ben & Jerry's (the best ice cream ever made). I would often visit several stores a week to buy ice cream, hoping no one could tell I was helplessly addicted.

Ben & Jerry's was my brand of choice. I tried switching to the less potent stuff: Haagen-Daaz, Blue Bonnet, Breyer's, even store brands. But nothing could match the hardcore fix I got from Ben & Jerry's.

Pigging out on ice cream and catching a buzz felt great, but it took a drastic toll on my body. At first, I was pleased to find the extra calories were putting some much-needed junk in my trunk. But as my addiction spiraled out of control, I went from "hottie" to "fattie" in less than a year.

Before	After

Being a designer ice cream, Ben & Jerry's had a negative effect on my wallet as well as my body. But I needed a fix so bad, I didn't care what other areas of my life suffered. I look back now and think of all the money I spent on that stuff, and how I could have spent it on the finer things in life: a nice car, a new house, the Pink Floyd box set, travel-sized versions of popular board games... I could have collected all 107 Pokemon trading cards! But I didn't give myself a chance to buy these things. All my money went to two men—Ben and Jerry.

One day, I finally cracked under the pressure of my own choatic addiction. After finishing my last pint of B&J in the house, I ran out to buy more, only to discover that both Safeway AND Albertson's were closed for the night. I had sold my bitchin' Camaro months before so I could buy more ice cream, and every store within walking distance was closed. The last thing I remember is rummaging through the contents of my freezer, searching for any traces of ice cream to pacify me until morning. After dumping every tray of ice cubes on the kitchen floor, I blacked out and woke up in the hospital several hours later. I'm eternally grateful that roommate found me unconscious on the ground shortly after I fell. I almost died that night. That's when I realized that I needed to make a change.

Ice cream addiction doesn't just happen in big cities. In fact, many rural and suburban communities face a growing trend of ice cream addicts. If you think a loved one is an ice cream addict, look for warning signs like cracked lips, developed knowledge of ice cream brands and flavors, increased happiness followed by discontent, and constant possession of spoons.

Remember everyone, it's up to all of us to stop this growing addiction from spreading. Learn to spot the signs of popular confections that are dangerous to you and your family, and just say "No!"

posted by platkat @ 7:15 AM 12 million people love The Kat

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Naperthrill

I was playing poker online tonight and saw that someone at my table was from Naperville, a sterile, corporate-controlled gene pool in which I was trapped for 17 hellish years. In this new-money Chicago suburb, nearly everyone is rich, gorgeous (by midwestern standards), way better than you, and if over 23, pushing a baby carriage.

I said hello and introduced myself as a fellow Napervillian. The player was silent and did not return my greeting.

Yep, Naperville hasn't changed a bit!

posted by platkat @ 9:22 PM 4 million people love The Kat

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

And When God Cast His Angry Hand Upon Those of the Modern Day

He created IT people.

I spent the first 30 minutes of my morning on the phone, 28 of which were on hold. All I needed was a password reset, but the guy I was talking to had never heard of Perforce, an application used by everyone. I had to repeat my problem several times, even though I had specifically chosen that I need a password reset. When he asked me to spell "Perforce", I knew we were going nowhere.

I can understand his not being able to help me due to lack of training, but he didn't even try to troubleshoot. (Although I appreciated not being asked the standard, just-shoot-me-in-the-face-now questions: "Did you restart your machine?" and "Is Caps Lock on?") He put me on hold for 10 minutes and when he came back, the most brilliant question he could muster was, "Is this a company-wide application or something you downloaded yourself?" He also said he'd been trying "left and right" to help me with my problem, but I guarantee, if he talked to at least one other person, they could at least give him the lowdown on what Perforce is. I asked if there was someone else I could call that might have more knowledge in this area, and he put me on hold again. He ended up filing a web request ticket, which I could have done myself in 3 minutes.

We might as well have outsourced our help desk to India. Giving good tech support seems difficult for most people, so why do we let just anyone do it? Same reason we let just anyone teach in public schools...

*Continues bemoaning the ails of society internally*

posted by platkat @ 9:08 AM 5 million people love The Kat

Monday, August 15, 2005

All About Poker

For someone who plays cards as much as I do (every hour that is not consumed by working or sleeping), I don't blog about it often. Much like programming, hearing someone else talk about Texas Hold'em ad nauseum is kinda boring. So, I don't want to post victorious hand histories or give detailed accounts of my game-crushing all-ins, but I will discuss highlights.

My weekend of tournaments started on Friday. I had qualified for a Party Poker Million V Cruise satellite. Unfortunately, there were not enough players in this satellite, so it became a cash tournament. This bothered me, but Gus told me to just do my best so I can win money and buy into the next full satellite directly.

Good logic, but I ended up busting out about halfway through the damn thing, losing with a king-high flush to an ace-high flush. What are the odds? Who cares. I lost.

Then I went on to play another qualifier (they're very cheap) and a huge $30 buy-in tournament on Saturday. I placed 80th out of 900 in the latter and won a modest sum. The interesting thing about that experience is that two different people at different tables throughout the tournament felt the need to single me out and call me stupid regarding plays they didn't like. I wasn't surprised by their audacity—people will say just about anything behind the safety of their computer screen. I just thought it was funny that these two complete strangers thought it would be in some way helpful to criticize my game so vehemently, and then bust out before the payouts.

If my play is stupid, why would you want to tell me? When the L.A. Lakers play the Miami Heat, does Kobe lecture Shaq on how to improve his lay-up? No, because they're opponents. Rather than wasting their time belittling each other, they focus their energy on out-playing each other.

In addition, why are these fabulous poker players/consultants entering cheap weekend online tournaments when the World Poker Tour is in full swing? Sick of all the fame and fortune of playing professionally? Or maybe they're just poor, pathetic fucks with nothing better to do on a Saturday. Unless you're Annie Duke, Phil Ivey, or a one of a small final table of my favorite professional players, you really have no business giving unsolicited advice.

On Sunday, I played a couple more tournaments. In my 3-table, $30 buy-in no-limit tournament, I was at a friendly, chatty table. Midway through the round, one of the players announced that she was "playing in disguise," having chosen a male avatar even though she is female. She said she did that so guys would stay off her case. I remembered the name-calling from the day before and wondered how much that actually had to do with my being a woman. I doubt I took the criticisms any different than a man would have, and I'm still completely unclear as to the offender's expected result.

Anyway, I won that tournament, which was nice. After all the big tournaments I had entered, it was like running a 5K after training for a marathon.

Still, I had a lingering problem. Lately I've been winning money in tournaments, but I've been losing money playing limit. I needed to work on playing a more sensible limit game. So I spent the remainder of last night hounding a $2/4 limit table. After a significant time investment, I came out ahead. This was good for my bankroll but even better for my ego... because when I'm on tilt, that's what really takes a beating.

I think I've pontificated on poker enough for awhile... Hooray for Vikings and Monday morning bagels!

GIS for Viking

posted by platkat @ 12:31 PM 2 million people love The Kat

Sunday, August 14, 2005

Things I Should Not Be Doing on a Sunday Night

I'm sure your evening has been much more productive than mine. I know exactly what I should not be doing (although only a few of these come from direct experience), but it is much harder to determine the best way to spend the dwindling hours of my weekend. So it goes...

Watching Cowboy Bebop

Getting drunk at VXN

Searching for the long-lost Creatress

Throwing a tantrum in the middle of Wal-Mart

Testing the load-bearing capacities of ceiling fixtures

Pulling 20 shopping carts into See-What-Happens-Larry's driveway

Reading conspiracy theories about Party Poker while playing a tournament on Party Poker

Running through the nearest movie theater wearing nothing but a werewolf mask

Climbing onto the roof of a nursing home to practice my yodeling

Tattooing an ostentatious, yet sophisticated moustache on my upper lip with a pen and a needle

Experimenting with gaseous blends of Mexican food ingredients and dairy products

Ordering a free information kit about the Ab-Doer

Coaxing three dozen feral cats to jump off the Rengstorff bridge onto Highway 101 to see what percentage of them land on their feet

Using computer imaging to see what I'd look like in a few years... if I were addicted to chrystal meth

Teaching myself Latin

Finding Elvis's private island so I can kill him for real

Applying for sales jobs at T-Mobile so I can be the first on my block to sport the phantom Sidekick III

posted by platkat @ 8:29 PM 2 million people love The Kat

Friday, August 12, 2005

Spastique

After landing on just about every blog in the universe today, I see that this is the latest waste-your-time-while-your-friends-get-to-know-you-better Internet blast and I'm pretty bored. So here you go.

10 years ago
I was in high school. Short of the thought of blowing my own head off and ending it all, not much pleased me.

5 years ago
I was in college. I ditched the shitty job, possessive boyfriend, and lackluster school to move to Austin, Texas. It was five years ago to the week that I decided I would only spend time with people I liked and only do what made me happy. Seems simple enough, but I've found very few people who can follow this philosophy to the letter. The times I have done it, things have always gone right. These were probably the happiest months of my life.

1 year ago
I was working at a shit job with shit people. You know who you are. Around this time, I also adopted a dog named Zoey. I was living in a house with my current boyfriend Gus and going to Vegas every once in awhile.

yesterday
I got an excellent haircut, rollerbladed downtown, and had a nice dinner with friends.

tomorrow
I'm going to run and lift weights at the gym, and probably play cards for the rest of the day.

5 snacks I enjoy
Ben & Jerry's Fudge Brownie
Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia
Chocolate covered pretzels
Starburst jelly beans
Cherries and gouda

5 bands/artists that I know the lyrics to most of their songs
Bjork
Pink Floyd
Radiohead
REM
Belly

5 things I would do with $100,000,000
Buy a plane
Travel
Open my own restaurant
Donate to women's shelters
Update my wardrobe

5 locations I would like to run away to
My house
Aunt Carol's house
Jim's house
Australia
Fiji

5 bad habits I have
Blowing my nose too loud
Getting distracted
Drinking like a sailor
Cursing like a sailor
Sailing

5 things I like doing
Hanging out with Gus
Walking my dog
Washing my car
Playing cards
Writing meaningless drivel for friends and onlookers to enjoy

5 things I will never wear
A burqua
A clown suit
Stilts
A shirt with my name on it
War paint

5 TV shows I like(d)
Daria
Futurama
Mr. Show
The Brak Show
Strangers with Candy

5 movies I like
The Wizard of Oz
The Cell
Brain Candy
The Langoliers
Saw

5 people I'd like to meet (alive or dead)
Annie Duke
George W. Bush
Anna Quindlen
Buddha
My maker

5 biggest joys at the moment
Poker
Running
Rollerblading
Day trips
Yakkin'

5 favorite toys
Sidekick II
Computer
Rollerblades
Gameboy Advance SP
Chinese good luck kitty

Well, if you managed to get all the way to the end of this boring-as-hell survey, my hat's off to you. If I wore hats. Which I don't.

posted by platkat @ 1:36 PM 5 million people love The Kat

Feeling Philanthropic?

"If a homeless person has a funny sign, he hasn't been homeless that long. A real homeless person is too hungry to be funny." -Chris Rock

posted by platkat @ 9:38 AM 5 million people love The Kat

Thursday, August 11, 2005

Nu Hairs

I started this morning off right with my usual trip to the gym and nice haircut at Solstice Salon. When I called yesterday, one of the stylists answered and offered to do my hair at 8 even though the salon doesn't open until 9.

He did a did a really good job (pic below) and he was fast. I like getting my hair done and everything, but some stylists take a ridiculously long time and don't even deliver the best cut and style. I told the guy what I wanted and he gave it to me. Every purchase should be so easy!

Our conversation was also pleasant–not too personal, but not too superficial. I hate being asked the same question three times in the same visit (yes, that has actually happened to me... "Are you in school? What's your major?"). And I also don't like feeling like I have to bear my soul, or listen to my stylist bear theirs. This was just the right amount of friendly exchange between strangers.

This guy has obviously been doing this his whole life. Next to the numerous image-altering visits to my girl in Austin, this was one of the most satisfying hair experiences I've ever had. The cut was a little pricier than I would have liked, but as with almost every aspect of my life, I'm happy to spend a little more money for a little less bullshit.

This picture was taken at 8:45 in the morning. Despite my early jaunts to the gym, I am not a morning person. Very few people have made me smile this wide before noon, and they weren't cutting my hair.

posted by platkat @ 12:21 PM 7 million people love The Kat

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

Miss PacMan

Building 6 is a huge, sprawling, 1-floor building in the center of our campus and that's where all the other writers and many of my engineers sit. There are sections, thru-ways, crevices, and passages to nowhere. Building 6 is a giant maze, and it's an adventure every time I visit.

Although I lack a giant pink bow, I am the ultimate anthropomorphic Miss PacMan. I start my journey through Building 6 at a healthy speed... feelin' good, eatin' some dots. I hang a right, then a left, and I'm in John's cube. He gives me a donut. 300 points!

Then, because it's Tuesday, there's fruit strategically placed throughout my course, so I grab an apple (200 points!) and some grapes (500 points!) and then head over to Carol's cube. Before I make it there, I hit one wall and have to back-track, and then I accidentally get stuck in a crevice with nothing but a printer and some garbage cans to fend off the four ghosts that are totally closing in on my ass.

Luckily, I make it out alive and run like hell to Carol's cube. She gives me a piece of cake (300 points!) and then Tracy gives me a power pill so all the ghosts would turn blue and run away. We talk about some new features for a little bit, but then I tell them I've gotta split because the ghosts are about to change colors and eat me.

I head toward the exit but stop short and walk into a dead-end by mistake. The ghosts start blinking and I say "crap." I get back on the main path and finish eating all of my dots, finding another power pill at the end, just as I'm about to exit the maze and finish the level. I didn't kill any ghosts, but I got some tasty grub so I'll be ready to kick some ass in the next maze.

"Video games don't affect kids. If Pac-Man affected us as kids we'd all be walking around in dark rooms eating magic pills while listening to repetitive electronic music." -Karen Price, Nintendo Representative

posted by platkat @ 11:07 AM 0 million people love The Kat

Saturday, August 06, 2005

"Hi, I'm Ghetto"

After spending a pleasant morning at the gym and a lucrative early afternoon playing cards, I thought, Hey, I haven't had a suicidal thought in nearly a week now. I should really go to Wal-Mart.

I had been meaning to go to Wal-Mart for awhile. Right before I determined that Zoey was an intolerable nuisance and needed to go back to Austin, I bought a 20 lb bag of dog food for her. I didn't feel like having it around anymore, but I did feel like spending the 13 or so dollars that it cost. So, I stuck it in the Building E shopping cart long ago stolen from the nearby Albertson's (it's my store indeed; the shopping carts are at my disposal), and pushed the wobbly-wheeled cart down Showers Drive across the California Street afternoon traffic. I'm sure I made all kinds of friends.

As I weaved through cars and pedestrians, I passed the Goodwill donations truck in an adjacent lot. This made me remember that I still need to donate my old PC. In fact, if I'd had my old PC in tow along with my return merchandise, I would have looked 20% less ghetto. That's quite a deal when you have mainstream ghetto people eyeballing you as you push your wobbly shopping cart down the bike lane of a busy street.

Sho' nuff, I was greeted with a huge line for the Customer Service desk at Wal-Mart. I patiently waited behind my comparatively large Albertson's cart. When I got to the desk, the CSR was quite friendly, asking if the food was stale. I politely informed her that I do not eat dog food, therefore I am not exactly sure why my dog would not consume the product. She and several people nearby (at Wal-Mart, there is never a shortage of people just standing around) laughed disturbingly hard and I got my money back.

I almost spent it all on a pair of off-brand shoes with velcro straps, fondly remembering a friend's pointless, nonsensical rant about buying some $9 shoes at Wal-Mart and basking in my slovenly submediocrity. But then I decided that orange-colored drinks and gummy candy were more practical purchases. Those shoes were pretty friggin' sweet though.

posted by platkat @ 3:58 PM 2 million people love The Kat

Friday, August 05, 2005

I Think, Therefore I Am?

Yesterday evening, I arrived at my front door, which bore the message "NOBODY LIVES HERE". That confused me for a second. I checked the number on the door. It said "148" and I pondered that for awhile. Yeah, I was pretty sure someone lived there, and that someone was me.

Upon closer examination, I found some tiny writing underneath the message that stated, "...by that name." And it was written on the back of a UPS packing slip. So Bill probably posted it there regarding a misdirected package. Move along, nothing to see here, folks.

But it was nice to have a chance to question my own existence before continuing my daily activities.

posted by platkat @ 10:08 AM 4 million people love The Kat

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

Kat's Life Grab Bag #3

1. I often do GIS (Google Image Searches) throughout my day for various reasons and in my searches, I found Pet Portraits. Simply landing here means nothing, but since I amused myself with such idle cuteness between editing projects for such a prolonged amount of time, I have truly sickened even myself. After work, I'll be at the bar drinking aged scotch straight from the bottle and picking up a few hookers to preserve my usual psuedo-manly persona.

Just kidding... about the hookers.

2. I've said it before and I'll say it again. Fashion is so stupid. Every jacket/blazer that has a chance of covering my freakishly long torso without looking like one of those dumpy 80s rejects also has three-quarter cut sleeves. What the HELL? I've got long skinny arms and they get cold! I can't be walking around with inferior sleeve coverage. I'm told it's the "style," but it looks more like someone was just skimping on fabric and making it even more impossible for tall women to find well-fitting clothes.

3. One night my roommate came home when I was asleep. She didn't know I was there, so she started playing with her dog. "WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE!" her high-pitched squeal echoed. Eventually she realized I was home and stopped. The next morning, she apologized and I said, "Don't be sorry... that shit was funny!"

posted by platkat @ 12:01 PM 0 million people love The Kat

Monday, August 01, 2005

Masculine Feminoid

Good news: Æon Flux is going to be a full-length feature film!

Bad news: Charlize Theron is the title character, mucking it up with her stupid costume changes and wimpy neck injuries. Æon Flux is supposed to wear a black vinyl bikini and be tough enough to kill everyone... while suspended in midair. Where's Rose McGowan when you need her?

posted by platkat @ 4:10 PM 0 million people love The Kat

The Garlic Offensive

Yesterday, I decided to attend the Gilroy Garlic Festival, since I really like garlic and had nothing better to do. So, I hopped in the car and headed to Gilroy, which is about an hour away from me, minus the ridiculous festival traffic that made me want to put a gun in my mouth.

When I arrived in Gilroy, I learned I'd be parking in a giant, dusty field and riding a bus up to the park where the festival was. I was expecting this to be an "in-town" event like the arts and crafts dealie I went to on Castro Street (similar to the Pecan Street Festival for the Austinites), and thus, I was overdressed as usual in black capris and leather sandals. I figured I wasn't the only one and made my way toward one of the bus stops on the other side of the dirt road.

As I approached a line, I noticed a young couple and their baby leaving their place at the end of the line. Quickly, I found out why.

"You know, you're being a real jerk."

A woman around 30 years old was scolding her husband, who had his back to me. Perfect.

He muttered something inaudible to which she replied, "I'm not being negative. I'm just making an observation. If you're taking it negatively, that's your problem."

Now I hear people say dumb things frequently, but that was a true model of idiocity. When you call someone a jerk, what do you think is going to happen? Is the recipient of such a grand comment going to reply, "You know something? You're right! I'm being a total ass! Thanks for pointing that out. I'm going to positively change my behavior starting this very minute"? No, he's going to ignore you and keep doing his thing because you've proven yourself to be a socially maladjusted moron who is devoid of any credibility.

To make things even better, they had a little boy (about 7) and a little girl (about 5) scampering around them, antsy as hell and rightfully so. Watching your parents fight at that age has gotta suck.

So of course, the little boy decided he wanted to walk instead of wait for the bus. His dimwit mother had already done enough bitching about how hot it was and how long the bus was taking for the four of them. I guess the kid just wanted to take action. After asking his dad to walk up the hill and being denied with silence (the man obviously feared the psychotic wrath of his wife, dare he offer to take the boy), the boy started walking away. Of course, the mother started screaming at him to come back.

Her husband said something to the effect of, "Don't scream at him."

"I'm not screaming at him!" his wife screamed. "You better go and fetch him. Do you want him to get kidnapped? Do you? Someone's gonna kidnap him!" And the nagging continued.

At this point, the guy is thinking, Why the fuck did I get married? I could be at home watching football with the guys, maybe working in the yard... aw shit, sleeping off a hangover is more fun than putting up with this wicked bitch of the West.

"I don't want to spend 20 minutes waiting for a bus and then 20 more minutes walking up a hill if the bus is coming in 5..." blah blah blah...

The kid eventually came back and started playing in the dirt-ditch along the road. This gave Mom something new to bitch about: her 7-year-old boy was getting dirty.

"I'm a boy," the kid responded. Right on, kiddo.

The woman continued complaining to her husband, as if it was all his fault that her kid was hot and bored as hell. In my experience, if you want someone to back you up, that's not how you ask.

"Those were his shoes for school" was her final argument. Oh, I'm sure Dad really gives a shit now. You bought your kids school shoes in July and they're getting them dirty before August? Well, of course you deserve a free pass to act like a freakin' mental patient. This is important shit right here!

Soon after, a water truck approached. I gathered the purpose of these trucks was to spray water on the ground to keep the area from getting dusty. The woman had mentioned one of the trucks earlier and how all that cold water would feel nice since it was so terribly hot outside. Well, the approaching water truck was ready to answer her prayers.

The truck went by and everyone moved out of the way, except Miss Bitch 2005. Everyone moved, you see, because the water was coming from a huge tank that was feet above our heads. The pressure, nor being wet for the next few hours, seemed appealing to anyone, but the woman was in such a snit, she wasn't thinking about that.

She was obviously more soaked than she had planned to be, and the water shooting out of the tank at that speed seemed to be more of a shocking slap than a cool rinse. Unsure of what to say, she says, "Look at my shoes" which were splattered with mud–an expected result of large amounts of water hitting the ground in a single spray. Her husband got a bit of a laugh out of her stupidity, and of course she defensively replied, "I'm not complaining, I'm just saying..."

You'd think that would have been the proper comeuppance for the irritable festival-goer, but no. Upon recovering from being slapped, soaked, and laughed at, she looks at her son, whose hands were muddy from the water truck.

"Nice job. Your hands are muddy. What are you going to do now? What are you going to do about that..." Bitch bitch bitch.

Honestly, when you become a mother, does every ounce of common sense with regard to comporting yourself in public just get ripped right out of your head?

Condoms, please. I'll share.

posted by platkat @ 12:12 PM 4 million people love The Kat

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